Last Days
by MelusinaMoon
Summary: Last two days of the great Anne Boleyn's life in her pov. I'm not a writer, i just had a big erdge to write this. Please read! xo.


Last Days.

'_Anne pov. Awaiting her execution.'_

I wish it was over. I want to die. The waiting is the worst part, knowing that tomorrow is finally my time gives me a flitter of morbid happiness.

The bell tolls. Three times. I move to the window and look down, a crowd has gathered around the scaffold. I promised myself I wouldn't watch. But I gave up on arguing once I registered I had lost, even with myself. This was the execution of my brother. George. Oh, my poor George. He walked up the steps to platform, he said a few words. I could not hear. He looked up, he was looking for me. I resisted the urge to fling open my window and scream his name. I did not need to, he saw me, gave me my favourite smile. My hand came up to the window, in a futile attempt to touch him, tears streaming down my face I uttered an 'I love you'. I doubted he could see, but I told myself he did.

He faced the front again. The executioner pushed down gently on his shoulder until he kneeled. One swift glance at the crowd, and then to the vague direction of my window, he set his cheek down on the block. A drum roll had started.

He flung his arms out to give consent, the axe came down, the drum roll stopped and it was over.

The executioner lifted up the head of my brother, and the crowd cheered. I turned form the window and flung onto my bed. I cried and prayed like I do every day, hoping for some small miracle.

----Boleyn----

I was disowned by the King, disowned by my family, and now by God. By some horrible fate the executioner from France was delayed on the road. One more day to endure this torment. I did as I did every day, I cried and I prayed.

----Boleyn----

This is it. This is my time. I put on a brave red gown, ignoring the protocol of being plain. This was my last time on this Earth to shine. And I will do so. I left my hair down, my pearl choker with the gold 'B' sitting around my neck as usual. I was escorted out of the rooms and down the steps, and into the small hallway leading out to the courtyard. Thousands of people were here to witness the whore being beheaded.

I lifted my head up high, and sauntered up to the steps. The very same people who rallied against me when i was a beloved Queen, where now here to support me. For even the common people noticed that their King Henry was the golden prince no longer, he had set aside one good wife and was now setting aside another he strived so great for. Muttered bless you's and prayers for my soul were uttered beside me as I walked. Stepping up the steps, I regarded each and every single person. I gave a great speech, thanking the King for his kindness, thanking God and asking for forgiveness from Him and the people. I looked to the executioner, he asked for forgiveness and I gave gladly. In a strange gesture he bowed respectfully. I took off my cloak and choker, passing them to my maids and my niece, Catherine. I thought of Mary then, and how I regretted ever being less of a sister to her. I scanned the crowds, and there she was, my milk and honey sister. I gave a weak smile, which she returned, albeit a watery one. The long rivalry between was diminished, and not because of my death, because of my soul being exposed, to myself and to England. My sister, my brother, my beautiful Elizabeth. The only three people in the world I loved more than myself and my ambition. And only now did I realise. I could not even tell them. My biggest regret. Elizabeth would be safe, she is half Boleyn and half Tudor and that is no small thing to be, she is a princess, my little girl. And I hoped to God he would keep her safe.

Kneeling down on the straw. I looked again towards the executioner, gave him some money to make sure he cut off my head with one strike as best he could. I started to pray for my own soul, the people knelt and joined in with me. I waited anxiously, happy that I would finally be at peace...no more fake smiles, no more fake merriment. I would be in heaven, and I would wait for my Henry Percy. I looked to the executioner again, he was looking at me. What was this? Is he waiting for the King to come and cry out loudly a pardon? Was this Henry's plan...to scare me?

I looked again.

'BOY! Fetch me my sword!' he bellowed. Ah, he was waiting for his sword. Little did I know that he had hidden it from me, making the blow come as a surprise so I would be unaware. I looked away. Looked into the eyes of my sister.

And then all coherent thought had ceased, I saw nothing, I saw everything. I saw myself. Memory erased and a roll of bliss coursed through my veins, I had been released. Henry thought it would be a punishment to kill me, yet I am free.

I am free.

**AN; this was my take on how Anne felt. She is by far one of my favourite people ever! I admire her so much. This is non beta'd. Sorry for any mistakes. I'm not really a writer, but I had a sudden inspiration to do this. Same old request..review please **

**Gabrielle. Xo.**


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